Martin Light VS Himself
by xXMethereaperXx
Summary: The magical land of Toronto, Canada. Home to demon hit-squads, renegade businessmen intent on destroying the world, and worst of all, overzealous musicians! Drafted by rumored bed wetter "Eddie Wedbetter", Martin finds himself escaping his past by playing guitar while living with the beauty he found on Craigslist. Slowly it becomes evident he can't hide from it, nor let it go. /AU\


Alright, how's it going everyone?

I've been happy writing in my normal genres, but there's always been a couple others I've wanted to write for, this being one of them.

I loved the movie until I bought the books, then I didn't like it as much. Michael Cera is a decent actor, but he's no Scott Pilgrim…

Anyway, my story is gonna be the same style as the manga/comic but a different plot. The canon characters will be popping in every now and then, with the exception of the ones I use as supporting characters, but it's more of an AU. Just something goofy and funny for you to read.

It is featured around my main OC, Martin Light, but his role will be completely different than my first story here, about two or three years ago.

Sticking true to canon, it will be music themed including my own lyrics.

Alright, enough stalling, on with the show!

* * *

His headphones were blaring, even though he'd been asleep for the better part of three hours. That, and the sound of the tires rolling on the highway was enough to knock him out. Unfortunately, the same could be said for the driver…

The large hearse veered across the lanes and merged onto the Toronto exit, the blaring of horns having little affect on the sleeping passengers.

The driver yawned loudly, rolling over until he was almost on his side, "Turn down the damn video games, I'm trying to sleep."

Running a red light, they turned right and sped toward the city.

A pair of headlights began to catch up to them, suddenly turning to flashing red and blue signal lights. The siren began, but was still unable to wake them.

"We're having trouble keeping up with them, requesting back-up." the officer said into his radio.

A burst of static, then the dispatcher responded, "Car 4-9-3 re-routing to your location."

They continued the chase, keeping a safe distance from the swaying automobile as it had a knack to abruptly change it's mind.

"What are the details on the runners? Over."

The officer picked up the microphone again, "American, older model hearse. Plates are American, Indiana 474JFKL, Lake County."

"Copy that, details on driver or color of vehicle? Over."

"No info driver, color of the vehicle is-"

Before he could answer, a police car coming from a side road slams into the passenger side of his car and forces them both into a spin at an excess of one hundred miles an hour.

The officer screams as the motion causes his vision to wobble. The car slides into a ditch where it comes to rest on it's roof.

The officer sighs and reaches for his microphone, "Say, Debbie, it didn't happen to be Stewart that you sent to help, was it?"

"Well, yes. Why?"

"No reason," he answered, letting his walkie drop to the roof.

Unaware of their daring escape from the police, the hearse rolls through the city streets, passing bars, liquor stores, and pawn shops on it's journey.

After a couple more lucky turns, the car slides sideways into a parking spot outside of the 'Falling Apart-ments building.

The driver yawns and sits up in the seat, stretching as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Blinking, he looked at the building and the parking lot in which they sat.

"Hey," he said, nudging the sleeping passenger, "Wake up, I think we're here."

Pulling off his headphones, the music becomes loudly audible in the confined interior of the hearse.

"What?"

He pointed to the building, "This is it, right?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Shaking his head, the driver shuts the car off and opens the door, "Geez, where'd you find out about this dump?"

Still half asleep, he fumbled for his seatbelt, "Craigslist."

Grabbing his backpack, and a couple boxes, he slammed the back door and waited for the driver who carried a duffel bag and a guitar case.

The driver yawned as they started toward the lobby, "Man, that drive wasn't as bad as I thought."

"Yeah, just wasn't as fun as I thought it'd be. I mean, not one, single, mildly interesting thing happened on the way here." the passenger added, the air from the heated doorway blowing his long hair behind him.

The driver hit the button for the elevator and stepped back, "Man, I can't believe it's this late."

Yawning, the passenger nodded, "Yeah, and I gotta get up early to get some new gear."

"What's wrong with the guitar?"

Shrugging, "Well, when you light your instrument on fire and play it with your tongue, I guess you're supposed to put it out afterward. Plus I need an amp."

"There're some great places to hit up in town. We'll check'em out first thing in the morning."

The elevator dinged and they turned the knob for the door and slid the gate back.

"Man, this place is old. We'd be lucky if this thing only catches on fire."

The passenger sighed, "Hey, man, I gotta live here. I can't even imagine how the apartment looks."

For some reason or another, the music in the elevator stopped about halfway to their destination, making the only source of entertainment the passenger's headphones.

"Tom Petty?"

He nodded, "Yeah, Mary Jane's Last Dance."

"Not bad."

The elevator creaked to a stop and they hurried to exit, throwing the boxes into the hall. No sooner had they stepped to safety, the elevator cables snapped, plunging the metal box five floors to the basement where it shattered like glass.

They leaned into the shaft and looked at each other before picking up the boxes.

"Forty-four, forty-five, forty-six. Here we are."

The door was at one point white but now was just gouged and scratched beyond a repaint.

"You got a key?"

The passenger nodded and began sorting through his pockets, "Yeah. Here we go."

He removed his bank card and jimmied the door open. As they walked inside, they were shocked by what they saw.

Instead of the derelict, dingy apartment promised by the CL post, they were staring at a four-bedroom penthouse, complete with upstairs lounge.

The driver's jaw dropped, "Oh, my my."

The passenger laughed, "Oh, hell yeah."

"There's another floor above this one, right? How'd they get an upstairs?"

The passenger shook his head, still taking in everything.

"Is one of you Martin?"

They looked toward the upstairs lounge overhang and everything froze. Beside the passenger popped up a description box, _'Martin Light, 21.' _

Beside the driver, his box said, _'Not Martin. 25.'_

"Uh, yeah, I am."

"Good," said the woman as the sound of a gun unloading echoed, "You're late."

Once she walked into the dim light at the bottom of the stairs and more than her green eyes became visible, they looked at each other again.

Her dyed, red hair stretched almost to the back of her knee caps, which were visible due to her only wearing a long t-shirt with 'Sex Bob-Omb' written in red. She looked him over and exhaled the smoke from her lit cigarette.

"You have pretty eyes."

Martin blinked, this being the first time any said anything other than weird about his purple eyes.

"Uh, thanks?"

She nodded, "It was a compliment."

"Anyway," he began, nudging the driver, "This is Eddie Wedbetter. He drove me here from Indiana, so that's why I'm late."

"Eddie Bedwetter, eh?"

He coughed, "Actually it's-"

"So, Martin, what do you think?" she said as she turned and walked toward the kitchen.

Eddie leaned over and whispered, "Dude, other than being a little bitchy, she's a babe! Even if she is a little tall."

Martin cleared his throat and looked around, "It's great, definitely not derelict."

"Are you kidding me? This place is atrocious! It's only got basic cable!"

Eddie nudged him again, "Dude, look!"

Martin followed where he pointed and nearly fainted. An entire wall was filled with a large TV and shelves of various video game consoles and games, many with their original boxes. The rest of the space was taken up by movies.

"I think I'm in love."

"Yeah, the cable goes out all the time, so I have to keep some games around as a backup."

"Amazing!"

"Anyway," she added as she swirled her drink, "It's late. We can talk in the morning, name's Simone by the way."

The box appeared beside her, '_The Strangely Single, Simone Lancaster_. 24'

Martin was still fixed on the shelves of video games.

"Is he gonna be ok?"

Eddie nodded, "Yeah, just leave him. Elevator broke, by the way, how do I get out of here?"

She sighed, "Again? Well, you're stuck with the fire escape then."

He nodded and walked to where Martin stood, talking slowly, "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

His response was a loud, gurgling sound.

"Nice meeting you, by the way." Eddie said as he walked to the window.

Simone set her drink down and stamped her cigarette in the ashtray, "See ya, Bedwetter."

"Yeah, like I hadn't heard that a thousand times."

Sighing, she walked over to where Martin was standing and waved her hand in front of his face.

"Do you wanna see your room, or are you gonna stand there all night?"

This time there was no answer.

She shrugged and picked her glass off the table, "See you in the morning."

**[][][]**

Simone walked out of her room, buttoning up the jacket of her suit and adjusted her skirt in the mirror. She walked into the kitchen and hit the button for the coffee pot on the counter.

In the background, the form of Martin can still be seen staring at the wall.

Yawning, she leaned against the counter and listened to the gurgling of the coffee being made.

Once her glass was full, she turned and started toward the TV, stopping when she seen him standing there.

"Seriously?"

Setting her glass on the table in front of the couch, she nudged the frozen Martin, succeeding in nothing more than a brief sway.

"Hey, come on!"

She snapped her fingers by his ear, bringing him out of his trance.

"This is impressive, it's-" he began to say, but suddenly crumbled to the floor.

'_K-O!'_

Martin groaned, "Why do I feel so tired?"

"Well, you were staring at a wall for the better part of five hours, so…"

Using his arms, he crawled to the couch and pulled himself to a sitting position, "What's so special about a wall?"

As he finished speaking, he once again became fixated.

"Not again! Come on, I gotta go to work!"

He shook his head, "I'm okay, just gonna go to sleep for a few… years."

Shaking her head, she walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, "What did I get my self into?"

She walked back to the couch and handed him a tall, black can, "I was saving this, but I think you need it more."

"What is it?" he asked weakly.

"Just drink it. It'll wake you up."

He looked at the can again, then took a large drink. His eyes widened and he quickly took another.

"Well, how is it?" she asked curiously.

"It's the most disgusting thing I've ever drank."

"Well," she said, reaching down to take it, "Then I'll just pour it out."

He took the can and scurried away to the front of the TV, "No, it's okay. I mean, it'd be a shame to waste it. If you happen to buy any more by accident, I'll sacrifice myself by drinking this awfulness…"

She couldn't help laughing as he finished the drink and tried to get the remaining drops out, "You're lucky you're cute. Anyway, when you feel like it, your room's the third one from the stairs. See you tonight!"

She finished her coffee and climbed onto the fire escape. As she disappeared past the window, Eddie came into view.

"Lookin' good, Simone!"

Faintly, from farther away came, "Up yours, Bedwetter!"

Eddie leaned in the window and whispered, "Anyone home?"

"Not so loud," Martin answered as he struggled to his feet.

"There you are. Ready?"

Martin sighed, "No, but let's go anyway."

**[][][]**

"I still don't think it's a good idea, Lola," she said while they walked down the sidewalk.

Lola sighed and flipped her blonde hair, "Come on, it's perfect! You just have to sneak out Wednesday night. We'll go to the party for awhile, then we'll leave. Simple as that!"

She shook her head, "You don't know my parents. Besides, who throws a party on a Thursday?"

"Mulie, or Julie, whatever her name is. They're always throwing parties, it's awesome."

She waited by the door while Lola finished her cigarette, "I don't know."

Lola sighed and stamped her cigarette into the ground, "You're a senior, Amy. You better start acting like one."

"Then tell me," she said when they both walked into the store, "If we're supposed to act like seniors, why are we hanging out at the Rook Shop on a Tuesday?"

"Because the Rook Shop has everything."

From the other side of the store, a deep voice yells, _'Player 1, ready! Player 2, ready!'_

"Even men," she adds, looking in their direction.

"Who are they?"

"Well," Lola began, moving to get a better look, "The one in the Members Only jacket is Eddie Wedbetter. He's intent on starting the world's greatest band."

The sound of an amp turning on reached them before the dull thud of his bass.

"Actually, I'd heard he's already recruited Trisha Ha."

"I don't know who that is," she answered, listening to the riff he was playing.

"Hello?! Crash and The boys' drummer? When they split a couple years ago, she went back to playing DrumMania, and that's where Eddie found her. She goes to our school, for crying out loud!"

Another amp kicked on, and they looked to who was adjusting the controls.

"Who's he?"

Eddie stopped and waited for the cue. The guitarist nodded quickly, and they began, Eddie following the heavy crunch of the muted riff.

"Must be the guitarist he was talking about. Said he came all the way from America to join."

They widened their stance as the riff changed to a speedy strumming of chords, causing a burst of air to snake it's way through the store, rattling shelves and signs.

They blocked their faces and found shelter behind a magazine rack.

"I think that's Static-Y's Fatman. Not a bad song."

They managed a peek around the rack and the musicians were both nodding, their years of experience allowing them to play with little effort.

There was a loud _pop_ sound and the lights flickered, bringing a silence to the shop.

"If that's any sign of how they're gonna sound Friday, the show should be great."

"Friday?" Amy asked as they stepped out of cover.

"Yeah, you should sneak out for that too."

**[][][]**

Martin yawned as he added the instrument to the wall of guitars in front of him.

_Player 2 has left the game._

"Not seeing anything?"

He shook his head, "Not really. Everything's too… new."

Eddie yelled from the bass section, "Isn't that a good thing?"

Martin sighed, "Is there anywhere else?"

"I think we've been everywhere. We could ask the cashier if they have anything else."

Eddie slammed on the counter to get her attention, "Hey!"

The cashier blinked and looked up from her magazine, "Yo, choice playing, brah."

"I wish I could say the same about the gear," Martin said, "You got anything more used?"

"Well, we just got a guitar in last week. Guy traded it in for a set of strings for it. Didn't seem all that bright."

"Show me."

Instead of moving, she waited.

"Please?"

Satisfied, she walked into a room in the back and returned with something that at one time resembled an instrument. The paint was completely gone, showing multiple cracks and dings along body. The neck was so twisted, it could have been a modern art masterpiece.

Aside from all that, there were bullet holes everywhere and a red substance smeared all over the back and in places on the front.

"It's perfect!" he said, grabbing it to give it a more thorough look over.

Eddie laughed until he realized he wasn't joking, "You're serious?"

Martin nodded, "This is the work of a legend! Look, it's even set up for dual outputs!"

Eddie shook his head, "If you think you can fix it, fine, but we can't have any trouble this Friday."

"It's just gonna be a backup for now," he answered, blinking when he realized what he said, "Friday?"

"Yeah, we got our first show at Heebie Geebie's."

"Besides the fact I haven't even met the drummer and we haven't rehearsed, we don't have any songs!"

"That's why you're here, prodigy, to save the day."

"You're not Eddie, are you?" the cashier asked.

With a nod and a smile, he answered proudly, "Yes I am. You must have heard the stories of my legendary bass playing."

"I heard you still wet the bed."

"The bassist never gets any respect…"

"So, how much is the guitar?"

She shrugged and leaned against the counter, "Whatever. The owner was gonna trash it."

"That sounds like a good price to me."

* * *

Well, I'd wanted to keep it short to see how everyone likes it before continuing, but I kinda got carried away.

Anyway, there's the prologue that took me about half a year to write… sad, isn't it?

Feel free to let me know what you think by reviewing or sending hate mail to the usual place, and I'll have the next one up after I get caught up on other stories.

Thanks for reading!


End file.
